Tomorrow Will Be Kinder
by freyinthelake
Summary: AU / After running away with Merlin, Freya questions both his and her judgement.


By now, she was surely far enough away that no one would hear the noises that would follow. The rich dress dragged mournfully in the pebbles, mirroring her mood. The rain was gentle but it's insistence was enough to cause invisible bruises all across Freya's sensitive skin. A large pond presented itself in the midst of a clearing, the water rippling comfortingly. Yet those ripples were enough to smash the brick wall in her heart that had been slowly accumulating since Camelot had evaporated in the distance.

A deep sob ripped from her chest as knots like rocks in her stomach dragged her down to the edge of the pool. Pebbles dug into her knees and feet, but that pain was barely acknowledged compared to the pain inside. The black monster was ripping her heart to shreds as the sobs continued to wrack her body as though some invisible attacker were hitting her repeatedly in the back with a club. From a ways off she imagined it must look like she was getting sick, and indeed she was - horribly, devastatingly heartsick.

What was she doing?

She was tearing Merlin away from his good life, working for the prince of Camelot. She knew now. There, he had everything he needed, people who loved him. It seemed that he loved her now - but was she able to repay that emotion? Freya hadn't felt or registered the concept of love since her family had died. That sentiment wavered regularly, like a sick and injured bird, finally dying in a puff of ash when the sorceress did her deed. The monster began to kill her from the inside out that day. And as slowly as it could.

Catching a fleeting glimpse of herself in the water, deathly white face framed by dark hair, she screamed at the reflection with all the anger she possessed. Something otherworldly shook the pond and its surroundings, so hateful and broken was her outcry. Smashing the reflection as though it were a mirror, the following ripples broke apart her reflection only to return it to her eyes again, mocking her. Again and again she smash and beat the reflection but still it returned. An infinite reminder of how undeserving she was. How every night she had to run from the cabin in order to not hurt her weary protector: the one who daily and nightly risked his life in order to get them away. To be together, like he promised. Like she allowed herself to hope could happen.

Smashing the water mirror became too hopeless, so she reverted to smashing her fist repeatedly against the stones embedded in the mud beside the water. There was no registration of pain until the volume of it became too great to be ignored. Her hand was not broken, but most of the side of her fist and wrist was now raked heavily by the sharp stones. Blood dripped in rapid rivulets down her limp arm, trickling into the water below. The mirror was now tainted with red when she looked into it. Appropriately so, she thought bitingly.

Why, why, why was she still alive? Why was she cursed so heinously when all she had done was try do defend herself against dishonor? Why hadn't the sorceress just killed her right then, smashed Freya's head in like her son's had been? Why did someone so good and caring and tender as Merlin have to find her in the dratted cage? Why did their eyes have to meet? Why did she feel such a connection when they did? Why did he feel such a need to stay with her and protect her? What had she done for him that matched, or _could_ match, all those gifts?

Another wave of thrashing sobs hit Freya, and during she was rendered nearly paralyzed except for the wrackings of her body. Now she realized what she was feeling. Some of it, not all of it. How she did care for Merlin - whatever the feeling was. That was still to be discovered. Love so often seemed to only show itself in death to her these days. Her parents telling each other, her brother, and Freya herself that they loved them. Even the sorceress mourning violently over her lost son. Merlin crying openly when he thought he couldn't heal her. But Merlin - what was that? Did he really love her? Did she deserve it?

That obvious answer to that question was "no," but could she? Could she still be capable of some good things that weren't completely overshadowed by that dark, growling thing that lurked in the corners of her soul? Could she, by her own feeble strength, possibly along with a little of Merlin's, beat the beast down? Was it tameable?

The many questions flying at her from all directions had dulled her activity to a sullen silence. The pain in her arm had turned to a simple ache now, and it anchored her to reality. None of those questions were answerable at the moment, but maybe one day they would be. Today wasn't the day though.

After she bathed her burning hand in the now smooth pool, Freya tore a long strip of cloth from the underskirt of the beautiful dress, dampening it in the cool water. She felt she was ripping apart another treasure that she'd been given. Of course, but the main activity of her life seemed to be ripping apart precious things. It was all purples and deep blues (her favorite) and scattered flashing greens. The hem was much muddier now from trailing it along the path, on top of the hard horseback riding. She wrapped the strip around her hand and wrist, already formulating an excuse for it. "It was a tall thorn branch, I didn't see it when I passed. It's not too bad, don't worry about it." Hopefully that would be enough to get by.

Slowly she wandered back down the path she had taken previously. It was visible enough, seeing as she had torn through the brush in a complete dither. Soon the cock-eyed door of the lonely, once abandoned cottage came into view. Smoke puffed from the chimney, with Merlin inside waiting. Patiently letting her have some time to herself. Smiling sadly, she crossed the clearing laboriously and let the door swing open.

A different life. And maybe one day, a better one.

Maybe tomorrow.


End file.
